Chapter Two

Ryker scrubbed a hand over his bearded jaw, his thumb absently dragging across his bottom lip as Nate’s scent lingered in his mind, the faint peppermint teasing him. Sleep had been impossible. Every time he tried, those blue eyes haunted him—piercing and holding secrets Ryker couldn’t yet unravel.

It was also hard to shake the unease. Dark Eyes’ presence bothered Ryker a hell of a lot. It wasn’t uncommon to find one’s mate in an existing relationship, but if that was the case, he had a dilemma on his hands.

Ryker didn’t poach, ever, but he wondered if he could stick by his morals considering the human was his mate.

His mate. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’d finally found the one person meant for him. Too bad the universe had a dark sense of humor. He’d not only let Ryker find Nate while the guy was involved with someone else but wrapped in a tangled mess of secrets.

Oh god. What if Dark Eyes was his husband? A cold chill swept through Ryker at the thought. Only, his gut told him that wasn’t the case. Still, there was something in the stranger’s eyes, a coldness that made Ryker’s bear snarl, wanting to eliminate any and all threats toward Nate.

Giving up on sleep, he got out of bed then yanked on his jeans, a black T-shirt, and a heavy red-and-black flannel. The radiator in the room was doing its best impersonation of a corpse, and he needed warmth—physical and otherwise.

He grabbed his phone off the nightstand, checked again for service, and was unsurprised by the mocking “No Signal”

glaring back at him.

Fucking perfect.

With the sudden storm that had moved in, his dad and brothers were probably worried about him. But Ryker had no way of contacting any of them to let them know he was okay and holed up in some retro motel in the middle of nowhere.

Maybe Ebenezer Scrooge had a landline he could use. It was worth a shot. After sliding his boots on, not bothering to tie them, Ryker stepped into the hallway, the air chilly and the overhead lights humming.

It was one in the morning, but inside, it felt like time had stopped, like the storm outside had frozen the world in place. He paused, listening, but it was quiet now, no more arguing next door.

For a moment, he considered knocking on Nate’s door but decided to check for a landline first.

Ryker made his way toward the lobby, the corridor stretching out in both directions, empty, like a haunted maze that seemed endless. The motel felt…odd, the air heavy with something he couldn’t quite place. The creak of a door made him pause, and then he turned toward the sound. It wasn’t Nate’s door, but another, midway down the hall, partially ajar. Ryker sniffed the air, but he didn’t catch anyone’s scent and he didn’t hear any movement.

Weird.

Maybe he’d actually crashed in the snowstorm and this was some bizarre dream he was having as he slowly froze to death.

That wasn’t a comforting thought.

As he walked, his footsteps echoed as the floor beneath the thin carpet creaked underfoot, matching the unease knotting his gut. When he finally made it to the front desk, Otis was nowhere in sight.

Debating for only a moment, Ryker stepped behind the counter and searched for a phone. Then he saw one, an old rotary tucked underneath the counter, sitting on top of a stack of aged and yellowing phone books.

Yes!

Ryker pulled it out and set it on the counter, frowning at the thick layer of dust covering it. His hope began to dwindle, but he picked up the receiver anyway.

Completely dead.

Of course it was, because god forbid something actually go right for him in this place. Grunting, he cradled the receiver then noticed it wasn’t even plugged in, and seriously doubted he would find a phone cord.

The sound of rusted hinges caught Ryker’s attention. When he glanced over his shoulder, he spotted a door behind him, sitting slightly ajar, just like the one in the hallway.

Curious, he peered into the room and saw a tangle of sheets on an unmade bed, but Otis wasn’t in there either. Ryker stepped farther inside, narrowing his eyes as he looked around. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat on the dresser, a pack of smokes beside it, but the air was dead silent.

A shiver of apprehension crawled up Ryker’s spine. This whole place was wrong, off in a way he couldn’t put into words. He closed the door, making sure it clicked shut before heading back down the hallway.

As he approached the ice machine, a figure stepped out of the shadows, almost making him jump. Jesus fucking Christ! This place was freaking him out. He wasn’t easily unsettled, but this motel had him ready to grab his shit and take his chances with the snowstorm.

Although he would never in a million years admit it out loud, Ryker wouldn’t argue against having his brothers and dad with him right about now. He might be a deadly bear shifter, but if he saw even a hint of a ghost in this bizarre motel, fuck his bag. He was heading for the nearest exit.

Thankfully, the shadow turned out to be Nate.

Ryker relaxed, his shoulders easing as he slowly looked his mate up and down. “You sure like this ancient ice machine, handsome.”

A crooked smile tugged at Ryker’s lips. Some companionship was exactly what he needed, that spark of that electricity he’d felt with Nate.

His mate chuckled, but there was a hint of nervousness in the sound, his gaze darting around the hallway before settling on Ryker. “You caught me. I’m addicted to slightly melted motel ice that tastes like metallic tap water.”

“Must be a rare vintage.”

With a smirk, Ryker crossed his arms as he studied the blond. “Seriously, though, you okay?”

With all the arguing he’d heard, Ryker needed to reassure himself that the slim human wasn’t being abused by Dark Eyes. If the bastard had lain a single finger on Nate, Ryker would eviscerate the son of a bitch.

Nate sank his teeth into his bottom lip, causing Ryker’s gaze to drop to their plumpness, and for a moment, he was dying to know what they would taste like crushed against his own.

“Uh…yeah. I guess.”

Nate’s voice was soft, and there was an uncertainty in his eyes that had Ryker wanting to take a step closer.

“You know,”

he said, his tone casual as he nudged the conversation forward, “I’ve got a room right down the hall. It’s not much, but it’s warmer than this drafty hallway. You want to hang out for a bit? Maybe get away from…whatever’s going on?” He nodded toward his mate’s room.

He thought he saw a flicker of relief in Nate’s eyes. His mate glanced down the hallway, his gaze lingering on the closed door of his own room. Then he looked back at Ryker, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I think I’ll take you up on your offer.”

Relief flooded him. With Nate in his room, he could keep an eye on the human and maybe find out what was going on.

“Great.”

The two walked down the hall, Ryker a step or two behind so he could once again check out the guy’s ass. Until he claimed Nate, his libido was in the driver’s seat. It went without saying that his mate’s safety was Ryker’s top priority, but damn if he didn’t want to get Nate into bed and strip those slacks right off of him.

Once they were inside his room, Nate looked around, his gaze lingering on the rundown furnishings while letting out a low chuckle. “Your décor is about as nice as mine. I’m guessing this theme is ‘vintage nightmare on steroids’?”

Ryker used the heel of his foot to shut the door behind them. “More like ‘haunted hunting cabin meets failed ’50s bachelor pad.’”

He motioned to the single chair next to the small table. “Make yourself comfortable. I’d offer you something to drink, but all I’ve got is some questionable tap water.”

“Ah, the rare vintage you spoke of.”

Nate smiled as he sat down, a beautiful pink blush lighting up his cheeks. “I think I’ll pass. I’m not trying to win any stomach flu lotteries.”

With a humorous snort, Ryker sat on the edge of the bed, purposely facing his mate. He studied the other man, noting the way Nate’s shoulders seemed to tense and the way his gaze kept bouncing toward the door, as if he expected someone to burst in.

“So,”

Ryker began, his tone gentler, “seriously. Everything okay with your…friend?”

He still hoped like hell the guy really was a friend and not something more. Though, for friends, the two argued a lot. Ryker still couldn't get the image out of his head of the possessive way Dark Eyes had looked at Nate.

Lowering his head, Nate fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “Yeah. He’s just…intense sometimes.”

His mate glanced up at him then shrugged, a forced casualness in his movements. “It’s not really a big deal.”

It was to Ryker. It was a huge deal, but he didn’t push. He knew when a subject was closed, and the last thing he wanted was to scare Nate off. “Well, if you ever want to get away from the intense vibes, you know where to find me. I’ll be right here, enjoying the many amenities of this fine five-star establishment.”

He spread his arms wide, gesturing at the room with a grin.

Nate laughed, the sound genuine instead of strained, making Ryker grin like an idiot. His mate leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxing just a little.

“You know,”

he said, gliding his tongue over his bottom lip, “you’re not what I expected.”

Ryker imagined that pretty pink tongue gliding over his cock. For a brief moment, he zoned out, his mind diving straight into the gutter. Then he yanked his gaze away from Nate’s mouth to look into his eyes. “Oh? What were you expecting from our five-minute encounter?”

“I don’t know.”

Nate looked him over as if the guy were sizing him up. “Someone a little more…brooding, maybe? You’ve got that look.” He wiggled his fingers in front of his own face. “Big guy, gray eyes, flannel shirt. It’s a very ‘ lumberjack who moonlights as a vigilante’ vibe.”

That wasn’t the first time Ryker had heard how menacing he appeared. At six-five with a muscular physique, he supposed he made an intimidating sight.

Still, Ryker grinned, loving the fact his mate had checked him out. “Guess I’ll have to work on my mysterious brooding, then. Didn’t realize I was falling short.”

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, wishing his mate’s chair was a bit closer. “What about you? You seem like you’ve got some stories of your own, honey bear.” He gestured toward the window. “We’ve got the storm and the rest of the night. All we need is a roaring fire.”

Nate opened his mouth as if to respond, his expression softening in a way that made Ryker’s chest feel heavier, like it wasn’t just air holding him together anymore. But the doorknob to the room rattled like someone was trying to get inside. Nate jolted, his eyes snapping toward it.

The doorknob twisted, a soft click echoing through the room as it creaked open.

Oh, hell no. If Dark Eyes wanted a fight, he’d come to the right person. Ryker headed straight for the door, scowling as he yanked it open, making sure his broad frame blocked Nate from view.

But no one was there.

“Do you see anyone?”

Nate’s voice was barely above a murmur.

Ryker glanced over his shoulder at his mate then stepped out into the hallway, looking both ways. Nothing. There wasn’t even a scent lingering at his door, only the ever-present odor of staleness that clung to the motel walls. The hell?

Not wanting to scare the guy, Ryker gave Nate a lopsided grin. “Probably just the wind. This place isn’t exactly up to code.”

No way in hell the wind had rattled the handle.

Nate nodded, but uneasiness still lingered in those beautiful blue depths. Ryker didn’t blame his mate. This place was spooking the crap out of even him. Stepping back into the room, he closed the door with a soft thud, making sure to lock it. “It’s fine. No one’s out there.”

“Thanks. I…guess I’m just a little on edge.”

Nate let out a breath, his shoulders sagging slightly as a small, grateful smile tugged at his lips.

“It’s okay. I get it.”

Ryker paused for a moment then added, “You’re safe here. I promise, honey bear.”

Their gazes met, and for a moment, there was something vulnerable in Nate’s eyes, something that sent a faint, unfamiliar pressure through Ryker’s center.

The guy took an unsteady step closer, his gaze unwavering. “I believe you.”

Damn if Nate’s faith in him didn’t make Ryker want to soak in every unspoken promise in those words, to anchor himself and breathe in that rare flicker of trust. But he also wanted to get the human out of this motel as soon as possible. His instincts churned, his bear pacing restlessly inside him, echoing his unease.

The preternatural world was filled with all kinds of beings, some creatures downright lethal. But for reasons Ryker had never been able to explain, the idea of ghosts scared the hell out of him. If they were truly real, it might be Nate who would have to protect him .

No kidding around.

“I’m glad you trust me, honey bear.”

He purged the thought of ghosts from his mind. “Now, what do you say we try and find something on this ancient TV? I think I saw an ad for a channel that only plays bad Christmas movies.”

Ryker had seen no such thing and was grateful his mate hadn’t called him on the lie.

Nate’s laughter broke the tension. “Sounds absolutely dreadful. “Let’s see if we can find the worst one.”

He moved his chair closer to the bed before sitting down, his eyes glued to Ryker in a way that said he felt their connection too.

Ryker snagged the remote off the nightstand then clicked on the TV, stunned when the screen came to life with a slight buzzing sound.

Color him impressed. The damn thing actually worked.

When he looked at Nate, Ryker saw the guy was fully focused on the screen, his posture relaxed. Unfortunately, there really was only one channel that would come in.

Just when Ryker thought things were looking up, they were stuck with some shopping network. He would rather chew his own arm off than watch it.

“Don’t!”

Nate slapped Ryker’s leg when he tried to surf through the channels again, praying he could find some sort of movie. Any movie would do at that point.

“You seriously want to watch that?”

Ryker settled on the bed, his back against the headboard, one leg dangling over the side.

“It’s not so bad,”

Nate defended with a cute huff.

Ryker knew nothing about the human, yet the guy held his undivided attention. His bear had stopped snarling at the uneasiness of the motel to softly growl at Nate, urging Ryker to claim the human.

I wish.

Ten minutes in, Ryker was bored to tears, but his mate seemed engrossed in the tacky watch being showcased for a ridiculous price. “I’d give them five bucks for it.”

Nate whipped his head around, blinking like he’d just realized Ryker was still there. “You can’t be serious! The watch has diamonds,”

he replied animatedly.

“Fake,”

Ryker called out like a baseball umpire announcing a strike. “If those diamonds were real, that watch would cost a whole lot more.”

“I’m still ordering it.”

Nate reached into his back pocket, like he was pulling out his phone, gifting Ryker with a quick view of his nicely flared ass. He chuckled when his mate fake-dialed his palm. The guy must’ve left his phone in his room, but the scene was still adorable.

“Too late,”

Ryker said in his umpire voice. “Next item is already up for bid, honey bear.”

“Three hundred,”

Nate shouted excitedly at the godawful handbag on the screen.

“But they’ll want six.”

Ryker smirked triumphantly when the price was revealed. He’d been fifty dollars off. Not bad.

“Six fifty?”

Nate scowled, swaying slightly in his chair. “How did you do that?” He glared at Ryker, exhaustion evident in his eyes. “You secretly watch this channel, don’t you? Admit it.”

“Not a chance in hell,”

he replied with a grunt.

“That you’ll admit it?”

Nate arched a brow.

“That I watch this channel.”

Nate’s weary smile was just as gorgeous as his bright one. Even so, the guy was clearly dog-tired. Ryker patted the spot on the mattress between him and the wall. “You look like you’re about to fall over at any second.”

Shifting his weight, Nate’s gaze flicked to the door as though it might spring open again. His hand hovered at his side, clenching briefly before releasing, the silent battle of stay or go written in the tension of his posture.

“I swear I don’t bite.”

Ryker wasn’t ready for his mate to leave, not until he knew what was going on with that “friend” of his and this strange motel.

People had gut instincts for a reason, and Ryker’s hadn’t steered him wrong so far. Right now it was telling him Nate was in some kind of danger and not to let him out of his sight.

As the person on the television explained why the gorgeous—yeah, right—handbag would make a great addition to any wardrobe, Nate stood and performed a full-body stretch. Ryker suppressed a moan when his mate’s shirt rode up slightly, showing off a flawless patch of skin.

“Maybe for just an hour.”

Nate let out a huge yawn. He crawled over Ryker’s legs even though there was plenty of room at the end of the bed to climb in without a six-foot-five obstacle in the way. His mate snuggled next to him, curling into the crook of Ryker’s arm and using his chest as a pillow.

Within seconds he’d fallen asleep. Ryker tightened his arm around the guy, still astonished he’d found his mate in some creepy motel while riding out a spontaneous snowstorm.